


Petit Ami

by ms_qualia



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Non-Consensual, Rope Bondage, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 04:50:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7670782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_qualia/pseuds/ms_qualia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux fights fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Petit Ami

Hux had a problem.

Every night, like clockwork, he went running.  It was chilly so he wore long, dark pants with a reflective stripe down the side.  Safety first.  

He’d run until it hurt, through the frost-chilled windowed high-rises, through good neighborhood and bad.  Nobody had bothered him while he ran, although he saw a few consider it over the years.  He had a look to him when he ran, half-cocked.  Anyone who thought of robbing him or worse saw the look on his face as he chased pain and re-thought, and he was gone before they could collect themselves again.

Pain had started to outrun him.  He’d started with twice a week and over the months and years had moved his way to nightly runs.  It had started cutting into other things.  He could not sacrifice work or showering, so sleep had started to suffer.  He skipped breakfast to sleep in.  He was getting older.  His knees started to ache long before he found the pain and the runner’s high he needed.

That night, somewhere by a deserted park with a creaking swing set, he hit the pain.  He was three miles from home.  The high followed soon after.  Not the intensity of an orgasm, but just as primal and sweet.  The pain in his knees was subsumed into the pleasure of his runner’s high and he turned back toward home.

A large man and a smaller one climbed up from a garden apartment stair.  They were holding hands.  The small man walked a step or two behind.  The large one looked where he was going and so stood back to let Hux pass.  The small one had eyes like a junkie and looked only at his alpha.

Hux tried not to think about it.

The route back that night took him past the neon glow of dive bars, and Hux had to slow to push past the throng of inattentive patrons who were fishing out their wallets to pay cover for a shitty live band.  The venue was a former brothel and proud:  the Midnight Cowboy.  The logo was a small man in a hat draped lazily over the back of a bull, legs splayed as an invitation.  Hux looked down from the sign and met the eye of a large man pulling a ten dollar bill from between a drunken woman’s fingers.

He had a leather jacket and dark, wavy hair.  Huge.  Rough-featured.  Their gaze met a little too long.  The man at the door frowned, and Hux felt the stab of a prey animal who had been seen.

Hux shoved past some drunk idiot and opened back up into a run.

It was just him and the night.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time he got home he stank.  He jogged past his living room, meticulously furnished in leather and chrome and never sat in.  He peeled his clothes off directly into the washing machine and started the shower.  He jerked off in the shower, running his hand up and down his cock, wringing the last little bit of pleasure out before the high wore off.

Soon he was alone with his aching knees.  He washed his stink off of himself.

The running was objectively destroying his life.

It was not, however, the problem.

He stepped out of the shower and pulled out his shaving kit.  He’d been given a safety razor as a gift and enjoyed the ritual of it.  It was very precise.  Foam the bristles, apply to shower-softened neck hair.  He ran the blade over his neck carefully.  He liked pain of a certain kind.  A specific kind.  A razor nick was no good.  It was sharp, not diffuse.  It would pull and gape when he didn’t want it to.  Hux took his time.

By the time he’d finished he caught a whiff of something.  He put the razor down.  It clicked against the countertop.  He stared into his own eyes and found them bloodshot.

Hux turned the shower back on.

* * *

 

 

At work, he stared at an open spreadsheet then out the window.  He’d done alright for himself.  Corner office.  Good view of the ocean and of other managers with corner offices in the block across the street.

He’d taken another shower that morning.  He owned a bar of alum he used as styptic for shaving and he’d run it over his body, a makeshift antiperspirant.  It was effective, but he was sweating profusely.  He was intensely aware he had missed two crucial spots: between his shoulder blades and between his thighs.  He could not smell himself, but he could feel his clothes cling to his skin.

It would be a problem.

His assistant Mitaka came in.  He was small and always wore his highest collar button closed.  Hux had once seen him stooping down over a document and spotted the telltale scar of a claimed omega.  His alpha had been “kind” enough in his frenzy to bite closer to the nape rather than on the back of the neck as Hux had occasionally seen.  That kind of thing made work hard to find.  Nobody wanted to hire someone who needed two weeks a year to get fucked.  Hux would not have hired Mitaka if he’d seen it at the interview.

“Sir?” Mitaka said.

“Yes?”  Hux feigned being interrupted.

“You have a meeting.”

Hux’s eyes snapped to his computer screen.  He missed a notification.  He was running late.  He was never late.

He stood.

“I’m heading home for the week.”

“… Wait, the week?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Medical emergency.”

“Are you—“

“I’ll have a doctors note.”  

He would.  It would require a bribe, but he’d heard of doctors who would do things like that.  He just had to make sure the doctor was not an alpha.  That would get tricky.

* * *

 

 

Hux had suspected he was not a beta for some time.  They could sex women and alphas from birth.  Betas and omegas, however, appeared identical until first heat.  First heat which could come any time from early teens to late forties.  

Omegas tended to know from very early childhood they were different.  They’d see how alphas walked with their omegas in public— the alpha’s arms around the omega’s waist, ushering them around like sweet lambs on a tether — and felt a pang of animal familiarity.

They also knew, instinctually, to never breathe a word about it to anyone.

It was not something openly discussed online.  It was rumored omegas who went unclaimed died, although this was a ridiculous urban myth.  The kind of thing conservatives on TV said to frighten omegas into submission.  Large-framed politicians and preachers would walk onstage, with a swagger that told you everything you needed to know about what kind of man they were, and say an omega’s highest purpose was to rut.

Just get it over with.

It was natural.

In high school, sex education covered the mechanics, but not how to fight it.

* * *

 

 

Starting very young, Hux had gone online.  Found others like him.  Open online communities tended to get flooded with alphas on the prowl.  Some poor shit would post about how painful his heat was, how it invaded his dreams and gave him nightmares, and then some alpha would post knotted dick pics and they’d all have to scatter to a safer place.

It wasn’t about sex.  It was just to mess with them.  Just to remind them they couldn’t really get away from it forever.  Not really.

Nights were the worst, Hux heard.  Nights could be unbearable. 

* * *

 

 

A few years ago a new trend had popped up.  The slang for it was  _ petit ami _ — “little friends.”  Get yourself a little friend to help out through the heat, message boards now advised.  It seemed dangerous to meet up with anyone from online after outing yourself as an omega, but Hux had gotten lucky.  There was a guy, screen name FN-2187, who’d been on that IRC server forever just like him.  They’d barely talked.  Hux had found him dull.  But both were omegas and neither had friends in common to trace the other back to.

* * *

 

 

Hux had knocked and was surprised the man who answered was black.  FN registered the look, but invited Hux in anyway.

“What do you have?” asked Hux.

“Uh, rope—“

“What kind?”

“Just, uh, nylon.”

“Silk would be better.”

“Can’t afford that.”

Hux looked around at the apartment.  It was cramped compared to his own and had no decorations on the wall.

Hux had pulled a book out of his satchel.   _ The Kinkster’s Guide to Knots: Freedom Through Bondage _ .   It was nominally for sexual partners, but the emphasis on safe long-term positioning and the subtitle gave it a clear subtext most good people would find perverse.  FN balked at the book’s cover: an artful photograph of a slight figure, likely an omega, bound and bent with his arms trussed behind him like a cut of meat.

“We won’t be doing that one,” Hux had said.  

He had handed the book over and had let FN thumb through it.  Hux had made himself at home, finding the coffee maker, washing it, making them some coffee for the long night ahead.

It had taken them a while to find a position that was both comfortable and safe for up to twelve hours.  It had taken Hux quite a few times to remember all the steps without consulting the book.

Later that week it was Hux’s turn.  He ended up in the same position as FN in the end.  He was in his bed, on his side, wrists tied to knees and legs trussed together.  It was easy to roll onto his other side if he needed to move.

* * *

 

 

They had done monthly run-throughs, one at his house and one at FN’s, until they’d gotten a routine down.  

FN called one night, on a day they weren’t scheduled.  Hux had been at a business cocktail hour.  He checked the phone and hid the screen from the others standing next to the bar.  He did not know why.  The initials and phone number would mean nothing to them.  He’d stepped out into the night air.

“I think it’s happening,” was all FN had said and hung up.  Hux excused himself and took a cab.

* * *

 

 

FN opened the door and stepped away immediately.  His eyes had been bloodshot.  He crossed his arms, his back bent.

“It’s awful,” FN had said. “I didn’t know it would be this bad.”

Hux had swallowed.

FN had paced his apartment, too strung out to help with any preparation despite their practice.  FN’s skin glowed with sweat.  Hux had never found much to admire about the man.  That had been by design. They’d never spoken and did not want to know about one another’s lives.  Hux decided after this first heat he ought to know more about FN.  FN walked like a junkie with an open wound between his legs.  Hux had felt a visceral disgust for him.  It would be hard to risk outing himself to help FN if he didn’t give a shit.

That time, the real deal, had required additional humiliations.  Hux laid out a plastic sheet on the bed while FN had gone into his bathroom.  He emerged in a long t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts.  They each knew what FN had worn instead of boxers underneath.

It had not been part of their arrangement for Hux to sit with FN the entire time.  The entire point was to stay independent.  Being stuck with a sweat-covered pathetic mess of an omega while he tried not to scream for cock was a different kind of trap.

Hux had, however, asked for some details of FN’s life and got them.  FN had a sister.  FN liked music.  FN was a military veteran and was good at chess.  FN was, occasionally, funny.  FN, like Hux, wanted to stay independent.  He wanted to pass as beta.

It did help knowing that the next time around.  Hux had felt more pity than disgust.

* * *

 

 

FN’s heats were every nine months or so, which was a little longer than average.   FN had gone through two and a half heats with Hux dutifully tying him up and untying him.  The longest “record” anyone had held on the board was five.  Two and a half was pretty good.

This effort would someday be rewarded in kind, Hux had thought.

Three days into FN’s third heat, Hux had taken a cab in the early morning hours before work.

“Hold it, please?” asked Hux.  “I won’t be long.”

The driver had grunted.

Hux had stepped out, pulling FN’s spare key from the coin pouch of his wallet.  Hux had still been bleary with sleep and so had not noticed, until he was very close, the creaking of the front door as the wind blew.  Hux’s eyes focused on it in the dim morning light.

The door was ajar.  The wood by the deadbolt was splintered.

From inside the house, Hux could hear, very faintly, the sound of moaning.

Hux had dropped the key by the doorway and ran back to the cab.

That night Hux waited on the message board.  He watched for FN’s journal entries, which had been posted almost nightly.  Nothing.  Eventually another regular sent Hux a private message.

“Did FN move to another channel or sth? not seen him around.”  

Hux had written: “I think he’s gone.”

The regular had known what Hux meant.

Hux never heard from FN again.

 

* * *

 

 

Hux had reached out two more times online to find a new  _ petit ami _ .  It was well known in the community that FN and Hux had an arrangement, and whatever arrangement that had been had evidently not worked out for FN.  Hux tried a few members of the community who’d been around for a while.  They declined, some more politely than others.

Hux eventually settled for screening newbies.  He had gotten pretty far along in screening someone, only to find out it was some alpha in his own rut and on the prowl.  He’d tried again a few months later to the same result.  Some young alpha hoping to know exactly where an omega lived.

So, Hux had a problem.

Hux was on his own.

* * *

 

 

Hux staggered into his apartment and threw his briefcase down by the door.  He bolted it quickly and ran to his bathroom, looking for his store of sedatives.  If physical restraint was not possible, chemical was best.  It would be tricky.  He’d heard warnings that people sometimes OD’d because they thought it wasn’t working.  It wasn’t possible to make the need go away, but it was possible to drug himself motionless.

He counted his pills out, did and re-did the math on his weight.

He had three days worth.  In high school, they said heat lasted five to seven days.  From the community, he learned that some omegas went as long as fourteen days.

“Fuck,” he said.

It was only mid-afternoon and he was slick with sweat.  He paced his apartment.

Hux waited until the sun began to set.  His legs ached.  His erection strained against the waistband of his underwear.  The message boards said jerking off made it worse, so he kept his hands to himself.  He took the pills and drifted into a dreamless torpor, draped across his white leather couch.

* * *

 

 

Morning came and was better.  He might have thought it was all in his head if not for the smell.

Hux spent the morning scrubbing the scent off himself and out of the couch leather.

And then it was time to pace again, and after a very quick eternity, it was time to take the drugs again.

He didn’t sleep.

* * *

 

 

He hadn’t eaten or slept he realized.  He’d seen the look in FN’s eyes when he untied him, how red they’d been.  Hux wasn’t the kind of man to feel what others felt by reflex.  He’d seen and feared but did not know how it would feel.  Now desire coursed through him.  Now his dick hurt from being hard for hours.  The fatigue burned.

Sunset time.  One last set of pills.

* * *

 

 

Sunset came the next day and Hux was running out of himself.  He drank a glass of milk and vomited it up.  He kept the second one down.  He didn’t know if it was the drugs.

He showered early afternoon and painstakingly rubbed the alum bar over his skin, wincing as he pressed into the burning, aching muscles underneath.  He contorted, watching himself in the mirror to see if he was getting the spot between his shoulder blades.

All that was left was between his thighs.

Hux breathed heavy.  He watched his own eyes in the mirror as he thought about his fingers brushing against his slick asshole.  He saw his eyelashes flicker.  He put his leg up on the toilet, lifted his testicles and did what he had to do.  He glanced back up in the mirror.

He hardly recognized that man.

* * *

 

 

He’d fingered himself until he came.  It had helped for a few minutes.

There were no pills left at sunset.  Nothing left to do.  He felt feverish maybe.  Out of touch.

Hux would go on a run.  He hurt, and he would go on a run. He’d catch a runner’s high and turn back.  That’s all.  That’s all that would happen.  He was quick and it was cold out.  He wouldn’t attract any attention.

That’s what he told himself.

He put on his long running pants with the reflective stripe, stepped out of his front door, and started running, letting his aching legs take him on his old familiar route and where it would, inevitably, take him.

* * *

 

 

Pain and the runner’s high came very quickly, and some of the fog of his condition lifted.  The fog outside, however, was thick and had an unpleasant acrid edge to it.  The cool moist air licked his skin, wearing away at what little protection the alum had provided.  He felt a bead of sweat form at his hairline and trace its way down his neck like a possessive lover’s fingertips.

He knew he should turn back, but the small relief from his condition was too hard to give up.  He tried not to think.

The city’s cars inched along in the tail end of evening traffic, still stuck even though the sun had set.  One commuter, a very tall middle-aged pedestrian in a suit, watched him pass.  He spotted Hux running from half a block away and his head turned as he ran past.  Hux did not hear the man follow.

An alpha with someone at home, no doubt.

Hux saw the neon of that dive-bar street and took a rightward fork toward it.  Two more heads, a head above the thin early evening crowd, looked for him as he ran by.  He was gone too quickly.  The Midnight Cowboy’s sign was a glowing banner.  Hux would pass by and he would head back.  That would be all.  Perhaps he’d finally be tired enough to sleep.

The bouncer at the door was someone Hux did not recognize; a big man, but not alpha.  Not his alpha.  Hux came to a stop, out of breath and suddenly feeling it.

“Fuck,” he said.

His heat was fucking with him he realized.  He knew he’d been looking for that wavy haired man with the full mouth.  He’d known it, he knew it.  He’d run straight toward him.  Hux had known what he was doing and had played footsie with his own intentions.  His ass was slick with his yearning for a giant stranger he’d made eye contact with once.  His stomach heaved with shame and self-disgust.  He staggered toward the alley.  A small group of people— betas and women— snapped out of their big-city reflexive unseeing of strangers until they saw he was not dying, then focused elsewhere as he dry-heaved over a pile of shipping palettes and dew-covered black trash bags.

He came close to catching his breath.  He felt, subtly, something go right.  A terrible moment of unnatural relief.  A little prickle broke out across the backs of his arms.  His cock, which had behaved itself while he was running, stirred.  He looked around.

Across the street, a head above the little throng of revelers and commuters, stood that man.  He stared at Hux.  Dark eyes, full mouth.  His hands were shoved into the pockets of a wide-lapeled leather jacket like Hux had seen bikers wear.  He didn’t look like a biker.  He was huge but not haggard.  It was a lame affectation.

Hux turned down the alley between the buildings.  It was narrow and poorly lit, meant for service employees and not for vehicles.  He heard his footsteps echo between the tall buildings.

Hux knew he ought to run.  He could probably outrun him.

A second set of footsteps joined his.   They were quicker than his own. He did not look to see who followed.  His body knew.  His pants were sodden halfway down his thighs.  Perhaps it was just that the fog had found its way there.  His erection strained against the slick fabric.  Maybe someone would walk down the alley and interrupt them. He repositioned himself, tucking it up into his waistband so a passerby might not notice it so easily.

The steps grew closer.

They were less than halfway down the block.  The steps would catch up to him.  Even if he opened out into a sprint, the alpha might be able to catch him at that distance.  If Hux ran and he were caught, he had no idea how that might go.  He’d heard stories of omegas who had witnessed “courtships” that went very wrong.  Sometimes there was more blood than usual, he heard.

He hadn’t heard these stories from omegas themselves, however.  Claimed omegas didn’t seem to mind anything.

There was little stairwell ahead to the right, perhaps to a garden apartment or a basement office.  The faint glow of a safety light bloomed up from the stairwell into the fog.  Hux turned toward it, feigning as if that had been his destination all along.   He took a step down into the concrete stairwell and waited to see if the steps would pass by.  Perhaps the alpha would re-think it.  They were only human.  It still took a little courage to initiate.

The steps did not pass by.  They stopped for a moment and, quietly, started again.  Hux, nowhere else to go, descended the staircase.  He had ten more steps as a free man, and he would take all of them.  His legs protested him, achy with fatigue and battered by years of constant running.

The foot of the stairs was covered in trash and the slime of what had once been trash.  There was a door with a glass window to his right.  The room behind it was dark and looked empty.   There was featureless concrete in front of him and to his left.

Behind him was a huge, hulking man, breathing heavily.

Hux took a deep breath and turned.  The large man took a step forward.  He stepped back, shoulders bumping into the wall.  The man’s eyes, Hux realized, were not very dark.  Illuminated by the safety light, he saw the man’s eyes were a very light brown.  His pupils were wide and he sweated the way Hux sweated.  He wet his full lips to speak.

He said, with difficulty, “Turn around.”

Hux’s shoulders trembled.  He’d never met this man and he ached for him. He lifted his head up in a last little bit of defiance.  The man leaned forward, palms on either side of Hux’s shoulders.  Hux flinched.

“I’ve been like this,” the man said, “for days.  Since you passed by.”

Hux’s voice shook.  “That’s not my problem.”

“You did this to me.  I looked for you.  Were you hiding?”

Hux didn’t have it in him to lie.  He nodded.  The dark-haired man’s face blanched with the half-cocked fury of an animal whose prey had eluded him.  The man closed his eyes and said, “Turn around.”

“Face to face?” asked Hux desperately.

Not all couplings led to a claiming bite.  It had to be on the nape of the neck or close to it.  Alphas might bite the front of an omega’s neck while overcome, but only the back triggered hormonal changes.  The strange man might just fuck him and let him go.

That would not be so bad.  He might be able to lie to his compatriots online about his failure.  Might be able to start again, fucked but not claimed.  Not kept.  Online they were derisively called “pussycats.”  Queen cats in heat would keen for hours, get fucked for mere seconds, then turn to strike their partner as if fucking hadn’t been their idea.  Hux had sworn he’d never be so weak and now prayed for it as the best outcome.

It was not to be.

“Turn around,” the man said.

Hux obeyed.  He heard a zipper, a rustling of cloth.  The man hooked his thumbs into Hux’s waistband and pulled down.  Hux shook, exposed.  The man’s hands gripped him at the waist, bending him forward.  The man kicked the inside of Hux’s foot.  Hux spread his legs a little further apart.   Hux reached for the wall, unsteady.  The man’s fingers dug into Hux’s hip bones.

“This your first time?” the man’s voice rumbled.  Hux did not answer.  The man said, “You’ll say ‘yes,’ in a minute.”

The man’s cock pushed firm against Hux’s asshole.  Slick with need and traitorous, it yielded.  Hux’s mouth opened as the man drove himself in and further in. Hux stretched to accommodate him.  They stood there a moment, Hux’s thighs quivering, rested against the hard thighs of another man.  The man’s hands ran up under his shirt, over his stomach.  He stood Hux straighter, wincing as the cock shifted inside of him.  The stranger’s lips brushed against Hux’s ear.

“My name is Kylo,” he said.  Kylo wrapped his arms around Hux’s chest.  “Say it for me?”

Kylo pulled back and slowly pushed back into Hux.  The fire that had run through his muscles for days turned from agony to bliss.  Hux slumped against Kylo’s chest.  The man held him up and thrust again.

Kylo whispered, “What’s your name?”

Kylo thrust again.  “Hux,” Hux said.

Kylo shifted Hux’s weight in his arms so he could move his hand down Hux’s belly.  He wrapped his hand around the base of Hux’s cock.  Hux nearly came then, but Kylo felt him start to tense and lightened his grip.  He moved slowly, torturously.  He drew it out.  He timed his thrusts to Hux’s voice as it sighed out of him involuntarily.

“Say my name for me, Hux,” whispered Kylo.

“G-god  _ fffffucking _ damn it,” panted Hux.

Kylo’s movement started to slow.  He felt harder inside of Hux, thicker.  His movement changed to a torturous, selfish grinding as their bodies locked together.  Kylo’s breath hissed between his teeth and rubbed his cheek against the hair above Hux’s ear.

“I want to see you naked,” he said.  He babbled half-coherent, chemical drunk. “You feel— I love being inside of you.  I always see you running, I always stop to look. Your hair is—“

“Kylo—” said Hux.

It was the wrong thing to say.  Kylo’s hips rocked into Hux’s.  He kissed the bare spot of skin above Hux’s ear, and the back of his head, and down.  Hux felt soft lips against the nape of his neck.  The wet scrape of a tongue.

“I’d be so good to you,” whispered Kylo.  “I’d make you happy.”

“I just want my life,” said Hux.

“Please,” said Kylo. “I’d just be a part of it.  Please.”

He moved his hand up the shaft of Hux’s cock, his fingers playing at the sensitive seam under the head. Hux groaned, bucking involuntarily into Kylo’s grip.

“It’ll only hurt for a minute, love.  I promise.”

“Fuck,” said Hux.

He felt sharp teeth sink in, through the fabric of his shirt and screamed, jerking in Kylo’s arms, and as the high sharp agony of the initial bite subsided he was awash in unbelievable pleasure.  He realized he was— had been— orgasming.  Kylo’s hand was slick with come as it ran back up Hux’s cock one last time, pulling one last shudder of pleasure out.

Kylo kissed Hux where he’d bitten him and whispered, “Mine.”

* * *

 

 

When they could separate, Kylo wanted to kiss him and that was fine.

It was fine.

It was all fine.

Kylo’s mouth tasted like Hux’s blood.

* * *

 

 

Kylo moved into Hux’s apartment.   He met Kylo’s parents after his second heat.  It was a nice dinner.  Kylo chopped vegetables and Hux re-chopped them to be the same size before tipping them into the frying pan.  He pecked Kylo on the mouth and shooed him out of the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

If Hux let Kylo tell the story, it had been love at first sight.  Real cute story.  They’d seen one another around.  Hux hadn’t ever thought of being claimed.  There was something about Hux to Kylo, though.  He knew someday they’d be together and how happy they’d both be.

Hux gave Kylo’s parents a tight smile.  Kylo, moonstruck, leaned in for a chaste peck on the mouth.  Hux obliged.  He caught Kylo’s mother’s eye as he pulled away.  She was a tough old broad with a piercing gaze.

“Is that how it went?” she said.

Kylo took Hux’s hand under the table and stroked the back of it with his rough thumb.

“Who is ready for dessert?” said Hux.

* * *

 

 

Once he walked down the street, his hand in his mate’s, and saw a thin young man’s eyes widen.  He looked away.  Hux felt like he wanted to say something.  Maybe scream a warning across the veil of experience.

But he was happy.  He was so happy.  Kylo was the best thing that ever happened to him, and that was something he could not ever reconcile or explain.  Not ever.

The young man waited until he thought he was out of sight and started running.

And so Hux was, forever, silent.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the people who gave me this challenge and who were very supportive, including  
> [Satan In Purple](http://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_satan/pseuds/Satan%20In%20Purple), [brittlelimbs](http://archiveofourown.org/users/brittlelimbs/pseuds/brittlelimbs), [aicosu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Aicosu/pseuds/Aicosu) and others. You know who you are. I would not have done this if you hadn't explained ABO very patiently to me and encouraged me.
> 
> I'm @ms-qualia on tumblr.


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